Daddy's Home (8 page)

“I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.” She grabbed her purse off the booth.

“You know what, I’m glad you did, because every time Jack’s name comes up you run or change the topic as fast as you can, and personally, I think you need a shrink to work that out. But since I know you well enough to know you’re not about to puke your past traumas and emotional hang-ups while laying back a on
therapist’s couch, you need to talk to me.”

“I suppose it is about Jack.” She turned and waved to Brooke who caught her eye and continued pushing her way back to them. Then she stopped at the bar to order what Holly was certain to be a Cosmopolitan. Maybe something a bit more demure, like a simple glass of merlot. Holly didn’t have Brooke completely figured out yet.

“Of course it is. Holly, it’s been nearly eight years. Don’t you think he would want you to move on?”

Holly shook her head slowly. “I don’t know. Yes, he probably would. But I can’t get over what happened that day.”

“You were not to blame for his death.”

“You know what? I can’t talk about this anymore. Yes, I like this new man, but I do have issues to resolve.”

“You are not going to resolve them by doing nothing about it.”

“Chad . . .” Holly’s cell phone rang loudly, and she was relieved it did. “Jennings here.”

“Holly, it’s me, Brendan. I’m calling to check in and to see what time you might be by.”

“Right. Sorry, I’m running a bit late.” She was chagrined that the Rolling Stones were playing loudly on the bar’s speaker system behind her, and it wouldn’t take much for Brendan to figure out that she was no longer at work.

“Not at all. If you want, she can stay the night. But she’ll need her school clothes for the morning.”

“No. Maybe she can stay over this weekend, but on a school night, she knows the rules. She’s a jabber mouth, that kid, and she’ll keep poor Maddie up all night.”

“Sure, and don’t I know how they like to talk.” He laughed. Nice deep, gentle laughter. “I only asked because tomorrow is a half day and the day before the Thanksgiving holiday. But I understand. You still up for dinner?” he asked.

She glanced over at Chad who was studying her, an amused smile on his face. Brooke had made her way to their booth and was scooting in next to him. Holly raised her eyebrows. Brooke did a hand wave. Holly waved back. She felt her own face grow hot as Chad started to laugh quietly and pointed at her mouthing, “Holly’s got a crush.”

Holly frowned at them, as she replied to Brendan, “That would be nice. Thank you. Say around seven-thirty?” She was now locked in for dinner.

“Good deal.”

She clicked her phone off, faced Chad, and said, “Not one word. Not a single freaking word out of you.”

Chad continued laughing while Brooke continued to look puzzled, a rare occurrence, because not much puzzled the doctor.

“Beware. I know things about you that others don’t,” Holly remarked.

“You wouldn’t.”

Brooke’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean? What does she mean, Chad?”

Holly looked at her watch. “Oh, look at that, I gotta run. Good seeing you, Doc.”

“Holly . . .” Chad called after her.

“See you later.” She looked over her shoulder, saw Brooke still looking puzzled, and had to laugh. Well, Chad deserved some razzing, and she was sure Brooke could give it to him.

“Have fun tonight, you man eater,” he yelled.

“Screw you.”

Chad caught up to her before she made her way out. No easy task with the filled bar. “Jokes aside, partner, I think if you like this man that you should think clearly about it. Jack would not have wanted you and Chloe to be alone. I promise you that you can love again. You really can. The Holly Jennings I know can do pretty much anything she sets her mind to.”

“Bye, Chad. Be careful with the doc.” She made it to the front of the bar and closed the door behind her, drowning out the chaos. She saw Chad watching her through the large paned windows as she walked towards her car. He waved one more time. She flipped him off, and although she couldn’t see him, she knew he was also laughing, just as she was.

As she turned the corner and headed across the street to the parking lot, she couldn’t help but wonder if there was any truth to what Chad had said. Could she love again? How would Jack have felt about Chloe?

Jack had never even known Chloe.

He’d never even known that his daughter had been born.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Holly took in a deep breath and let out a long sigh, actually relieved to be standing in front of Brendan’s front door and ringing the bell of his Spanish-style home, very similar to hers, in fact. They only lived a few blocks from each other in the older, historic neighborhood. For a little while at least, she would not have to think about the madman stalking single mothers and their children, how his crazed mind worked, or where he might strike next.

As much as she hadn’t thought that she’d want to come here tonight for dinner, she realized that her stressful day had changed her mind. It was nice to actually have a place to go after work other than the cop bar or home.

She knew that tomorrow would be another kicker, as they were all working overtime on this case. She didn’t know what she would do with Chloe. Her regular babysitter had a new boyfriend and hadn’t been available much lately.
Knew that was coming once the girl hit sixteen and got
those braces off.
She’d have to find a new sitter, and soon. She considered her only recourse might be to ask Brendan again. God, she hoped she wasn’t overstepping the boundaries. That he would think that she was using him.

She could hear Brendan and the girls laughing loudly, so loudly that between their noises and that of a dog barking in the background, they didn’t even hear the doorbell. She cracked open the door and couldn’t help but smile at the sight before her. There were Brendan and the girls, dancing like mad in the living room to the latest Britney Spears hit. The barking Labrador looked as though he was cheering them on, his tongue lolling out of a big grin.

Holly yelled, “Hello!”

“Oh, jeez,” Brendan said and rushed to turn down the stereo.

“Da-ad,” Madeline whined.

“Mommy!” Chloe came running over and wrapped her arms around her.

“Hi, baby.”

She glanced up at Brendan, who was standing there red-faced and soaking in sweat, the result of the workout with two seven-year-olds and the embarrassment of Holly catching them.

“Thought you might ring before you got here,” he said.

“I’m glad I didn’t. I would’ve missed the show.”

His face turned another shade of red. “They’re such dorks,” a voice from behind Holly said.

She turned around to see Brendan’s oldest daughter, Megan, standing in the hallway entry. Holly had only met her twice before at the school. She was a striking girl with long dark hair that waved like her father’s, but the color she surely got from her mom, as Brendan was so blonde. Her eyes definitely came from her father, though—that intoxicating bright green. The kind of eyes that could study a person and unnerve them if that was the desired effect.

“Nuh-uh, you’re the dork,” Madeline chimed in, making a face at her older sister.

“Girls, girls,” Brendan pleaded, trying to catch his breath. “Megan, say hello to Ms. Jennings.”

Megan looked Holly over with a scowl on her face, finally uttered a disinterested, “Hello,” then turned on her heels and strutted down the hall.

“Wait a minute, Meg. Could you excuse me for a moment?”

Holly nodded and watched as Brendan went after the fifteen-year-old girl.

“She is so busted,” Madeline said. “She and Daddy haven’t gotten along lately. He says that she needs to be nice to his guests. I think it’s because she misses our mommy.” The little girl flipped back her long hair, the same blonde as her father’s. She was the spitting image of him. Holly couldn’t help but wonder what their mother looked like and where she was. Better not to ask. She also couldn’t help but wonder about the reference to his other guests. Did he bring home a lot of women? That would change her mind about him. What could be worse than flashing all kinds of women in front of his daughters? If that were the case, then she was someone that the girls wouldn’t want here.

“My mommy left us, you know. I don’t think she liked us anymore.”

Holly looked down at the little girl. What to say to something like that? She racked her brain.

Chloe saved the day. “I bet your mommy loves you very much. Sometimes mommies have a lot to do. Maybe she’s at work for a long time.”

Okay, so the save was going somewhere. But work? Like a CIA agent? That would be a real good one. Holly decided it best to change the subject. “So what’s for dinner?”

“My daddy made us chicken nuggets and fries. We already ate. Chloe had ten chicken fingers! He’s a good cook.”

“Sounds like it.”

“But he made you something yucky.”

“He did? Hmmm . . .”

“Yeah, mommy. He made you chicken something blue. It looks gross.”

Holly stifled a laugh. “Oh, yes, it’s probably disgusting. Did he call it Chicken Cordon Bleu?”

Madeline and Chloe nodded simultaneously. “Yeah, that’s it. My daddy made me try it once and I didn’t like it. I like chicken fingers and French fries a whole lot more.”

“I bet you do.”

“Hey, Chloe, wanna go play Barbies? You can be Beach Barbie.”

“I can?”

“Yes, because you’re my best friend.”

Chloe looked at Holly. “By all means go and play Barbies.”

She watched them scamper towards Madeline’s room. The thought of the two little girls playing Barbies, and especially that Chloe would be playing Beach Barbie, brought back the memory of Sara McKay’s room. It hurt right in the center of her gut and spread into her heart. That monster had destroyed a child as innocent as her own.

She would see him into the grave.

And here she thought tonight would be free of all reminders that evil lurked somewhere outside the door, somewhere inside the city.

She caught Brendan staring strangely at her, holding out a glass of red wine. “You okay?”

She took the wine. “Just a little tired. It’s been a long day. How about you? Everything okay with Megan?”

Brendan turned and headed into the kitchen, which opened directly into the family room. He went behind the center island, took out lettuce, tomato, and carrots and chopped away. Holly sat at a barstool opposite him. She ran her fingers across the jade and black mixed marble. Smooth and cool to the touch.

“To answer your question about Meg . . . I don’t know that everything is all right. I don’t know what to think anymore. I mean, she’s fifteen, and fifteen-year-old girls act ridiculous sometimes, right?”

Before Holly could answer, he went on. “She disobeys me, sneaks out to see this misfit boy all the time, spends more time with his family than her own. Hell, I don’t know. She says she’s not, you know, doing it with him. But I’m not sure. Girls these days and in this country . . . In Ireland when I grew up, if a girl or boy disobeyed, a mother and father didn’t take any of that. But here I am taking it. My own father would be embarrassed. But I feel so damn guilty.” He looked up at her and then took a big swig of his wine. “Ah, jeez, look at me ranting and raving. You don’t need to hear all about my problems with my daughter. I am so sorry.”

Holly glanced over the rim of her wine glass and replied, “I don’t mind, really. What’s the guilt for?”

The oven buzzer went off, and Brendan removed a foiled pan, opened it up, releasing a cloud of steam. It smelled heavenly, and it made Holly realize that she hadn’t eaten anything since the Thanksgiving feast at noontime.

“You know, I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t really want to talk about it.” He dished out the gourmet dinner made up of the chicken, a side dish of wild rice, and the garden salad that he gave a final tossing.